


Pretend I'm Not a God

by FelicityGS



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cultural Differences, Cultural exchange, Food, Jotunn | Frost Giant, Jötunn Loki, M/M, Prince Consort, alien realm, but anyway, food culture is so fascinating you don't even know, mild snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 15:16:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelicityGS/pseuds/FelicityGS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a lot Tony’s gotten used to, as Consort of the Prince of the Void.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretend I'm Not a God

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays~~~ 
> 
> This is [itskinda's](http://itskinda.tumblr.com/) Frostiron Fest fill. I do hope you enjoy it! I certainly had fun writing it :3
> 
> As far as the AU, let's pretend that Loki didn't get taken by Odin, shall we, and see how that goes for the realms~~~
> 
> (Tony still did the Iron Man schtick)
> 
> (for prompt #70, bullets 2 & 3 -- culture clash and alien/realm exploration)

There’s a lot Tony’s gotten used to, as Consort of the Prince of the Void.

(Even Loki will admit the title is a bit ridiculous; he says it sounds better in Jotnar. Tony pointed out everything sounds better in Jotnar, because for the most part, it does. It’s a very musical language.)

Like how cold it is, whenever he’s on Jotunheim. How everyone is a billion stories tall.

(The ones who are short are the ones that didn’t starve to death. Loki says it was a common problem for his generation, just after the war with Asgard, which explains why everyone Loki’s height is fairly close to his age.)

He’s gotten used to the food--fish, fish, and oh, more fish--and the fact there’s no alcohol--rather, none he can drink without dying. It’s not like Tony has to _live_ on Jotunheim, and Loki’s cook (if the Jotun in question can be called that) is diligent about having fruit imported from Earth, even if it’s because Loki has an addiction to grapes.

Hell, he’s even gotten used to the days Loki decides he doesn’t want to get out of bed and drags all the furs with him to his throne to half-sleep there for court.

But _even after_ all of that, there’s some things that he still can’t quite wrap his head around.

And no, Tony isn’t thinking about Jotnar technology. Much.

(He’d just like it on the record that it’s absolutely absurd that anything at all can run on both cold and entropy, and he’s still convinced they’re lying or misunderstanding something in translation.)

Take, for instance, dinner. Hard to go wrong with a good meal--good food, good drinks, conversation, nice and relaxed.

Turns out Jotuns have _all kinds_ of food hang ups. Namely waste--which everyone should have seen that coming. Except not quite waste--it’s a need to have exactly enough and no more, to be full and not hungry, and it’s so specific that Tony still hasn’t managed to figure out how Jotuns ever eat together. He’s not ruling out a hive mind, though it’s less than a .1% chance.

So the SHIELD arranged dinner? Near interrealm fiasco. Loki ended up storming off, utterly offended by the excess and--the ultimate Jotnar food snub--offered food he couldn’t eat. Tony caught up outside the dining room--fuck SHIELD freaking out about him being anywhere near Loki alone--and whisked Loki off to his favourite hole in the wall sushi joint; Tony got his first glimpse of Loki’s curiosity and quick mind, Loki got to try one of everything, and they both discovered that sake was apparently really great at getting Jotuns drunk.

It just kind of… escalated with each trip Loki made to Earth, until Tony was waking up pretty regularly with Loki in compromising positions that were definitely not anywhere near the bed, usually with half the room destroyed.

Then Loki declared Tony the official diplomat for Earth, and, when told diplomats didn’t quite work that way, frowned for a moment, crossed his arms, and declared Tony his consort, to be treated as if he were Loki’s voice itself, and well.

(Tony still isn’t quite sure what Loki was thinking.)

It didn’t change (much) on Earth, but on Jotunheim? That first time Loki brought Tony with him back to the realm after the declaration, Loki casually mentioned to someone that Tony was his consort now, and by the next morning (not that Tony could tell it was morning), _everyone_ on Jotunheim knew.

(Tony’s caused _actual wars_ because he’s said something that contradicts current law, and Jotuns take Loki’s decree that Tony’s voice is his own seriously enough to _argue over it_. Granted no one dies during a Jotnar civil war--it’s more like a giant wrestling match. Too much value placed on life. _But still_.)

Which brings things full circle, to what Tony is sure he has about as much chance understanding as Jotnar food culture. Tony has no idea why the Jotuns treat Loki as if he’s a god-king. Why Loki’s dozing in court--otherwise seen as disrespectful--is considered an honour and something that several Jotuns Tony knows have expressed awe over. And sure, he’s asked, but ultimately it all boils down to the person in question finally giving up and saying _He’s the Prince of the Void_ , like it should explain everything and Tony’s an idiot for not getting it and can you _believe_ someone who doesn’t understand is the Consort?

It’s pretty frustrating, if he’s perfectly honest, but at least he hasn’t caused any fights this week.

xxx

Court has broken for breakfast. Loki’s half-laying in Tony’s lap, both of them wrapped up in furs--even if Loki’s got a bare foot dangling off the arm of the throne. Good for him. Tony’s spent most the morning trying to burrow under as many of the furs as possible because--according to Loki--Jotunheim is turning to winter now.

Tony just knows it’s fucking cold.

Loki is picking his way across a plate of fruit--grapes and mango, this morning--eyes half-closed in bliss and entirely ignoring the servant hovering a few feet away.

“What are you glaring at in the distance?” Loki asks, licking juice off his thumb in a way probably meant to arouse Tony. Which it does. Tony ignores it, because he still hasn’t given into Loki’s desire to fuck on the throne and he won’t, definitely not while there are people around.

“I’m not glaring, I’m contemplating how weird your planet is.”

“At least it is not unbearably hot and trying to melt itself in self-defense.”

“Jotunheim just put all its hotness into one place, used it all up.”

Loki gives him an unimpressed look.

“That was atrocious.”

“I haven’t had any coffee,” Tony complains. Even with him pointing out coffee can be cold brewed, it just hasn’t caught on with Jotuns--or Loki, for that matter. Caffeine does weird things to them, apparently, and they are morally opposed to boiling water. Or boiling anything, for that matter. Anything that has to be boiled is considered inedible, which means Tony can’t even get his hands on hot chocolate to feasibly warm up some.

“ _Coffee_ ,” Loki sneers, but he offers Tony a slice of mango anyway. Tony makes sure to graze Loki’s fingers as he takes it with his teeth, licking his lips to catch the juice, and then Loki’s fingers; Loki’s lids droop again, just barely hiding his arousal, tongue flicking over his lips before he manages to get his composure back.

(Yeah, Jotuns have a lot of food hangups; not all of them are hard to grasp.)

“What,” Loki asks, shifting so he’s facing Tony, “are you thinking about, then?”

“I told you, how weird your planet is.”

Loki arches a brow, unimpressed. Tony could keep this going all morning, and Loki would let him, but just maybe _Loki_ will be able to answer him.

“It’s more how weird you people are.”

“Oh?”

“Why is this okay?”

Loki blinks.

“Pardon?”

(The servant nearly drops his tray; Loki isn’t expected to be polite, and for the most part he isn’t. He’s sharp and jagged and brilliant, and Tony wouldn’t have him any other way.)

“The throne thing. No one says anything to you about it. And the rest, too, for that matter. People treat you like you’re a god, and I can’t figure it out.”

“I am a god,” Loki says with a cat proud grin. “You’ve certainly said as much, or did you forget last night?”

Tony rolls his eyes.

“I mean an _actual_ god, brought down from on high and bothering yourself with these oh so dirty mortal lives.”

“And yet I have already told you that I am,” Loki says. When Tony continues to look at him, unimpressed, Loki laughs--loud and low, echoing down the hall; they both ignore the few courtiers that glance over to them. “Very well, I am not, in fact, a god in the way of your realm’s myths. But you know this, so what is there to question?” One of Loki’s hands slides across Tony’s stomach to the arc reactor, finger lightly tracing the metal rim. Tony grabs Loki’s hand and moves it away--other times, he’s less bothered by Loki’s obsession, but right now it’s distracting in the wrong way.

“Why do people treat you like this?”

“Why don’t you simply ask them?”

“I have. No one has a decent answer.”

Loki hums, squeezing Tony’s fingers, but his eyes go distant and unfocused--actually considering the question.

“It is very… complex,” Loki finally says. “You are hardly an anthropologist, Tony, and you have certainly never tasted what has shaped my people.”

“I’m a genius,” Tony points out, and if he sounds a bit hurt, well, good.

“You are,” Loki agrees, “and yet you are skilled best in the ways of technology, energy, construction. People are not your forte, you yourself have said so many a time. At length.”

“Is this a nice way of saying that I lack empathy?”

Half of Loki’s mouth ticks up, barely, in a half-smile that makes his eyes turn sad and a heavy weight settle on his shoulders.

(Tony’s seen this, before, always in glimpses, a soul ache that Loki hides so well that few people even know it exists.)

“If you truly wish to know this, then I shall arrange someone instruct you in Jotunheim’s history,” Loki finally says.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Tony says. He pauses. “Wait, do you think I’m going to start treating you like the rest of this realm does if I know this?”

Loki shrugs, reaching for another grape.

(So yes.)

“Oh no. I don’t care how magical you and your people think you are, you can’t be half as awesome as me. You know that.”

Loki blinks, a startled laugh escaping and half-choking on his grape. Once the coughing fit finishes, Loki shakes his head, twisting upright and crawling into Tony’s lap all without exposing Tony to the air as the furs get shifted around. Tony appreciates it, and appreciates Loki’s lingering kiss more.

“Do not change,” Loki says, smiling, forehead leaned against Tony’s as they break apart.

“Can’t promise that, but I’ll see what I can do. If I get bored, all bets are off.”

Loki smiles, kissing him again.

“Good enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading~  
> (and if you want to know what's up with loki re: how jotuns treat him, feel free to ask)


End file.
